business was being minded as eyes looked around at the scenery surrounding her heavily clothed body.  it was cold out , but at least the inside was warm ; she still kept her coat on.  connie was used to such renaissance-esque places.  sometimes it brought a faint smile to her thin , pink lips.  though , a voice meeting her back made her turn around.  such words spoken to her made lips stretch upwards even more and held out towards her was one of the most beautiful flowers.  A ROSE / THORNY / ENTICING.  slender , opaque digits reaching to grasp it by the stem just missing the thorns. 

    ‘      why ——– thank you.  i’ve never had anyone say anything so poetic to me before.      ‘

@cursedays —- CONT. 

AND THE PHANTOM finds a different sort of muse in her delicate yet, seemingly sincere words by drop. he had chosen wisely, the feeling of being right was often familiar but very yet often wrong.  people could be different but at the end of the day, the reaction after they glanced upon the rejected demon from the gates of hell, they ran for their life’s and lungs were drained from horrible screaming.  there is now a sincere feeling of satisfaction from his part.

Send 🌹 for my muse to give your muse a rose for Valentine’s daySend me 🌹 reverse for your muse to give my muse a rose. // accepting.

BEING PROTECTIVE of the silent and loyal companion that is roses, in his understanding, giving one out would have to be towards a deserving individual. and maybe valentine’s day was a regular day for the creature that lays behind the horrid mask, but perhaps it would be for a change to gift from the heart. beauty to another beauty, indeed.  before bowing in sign of respect and knowledge of highness, the rose is presented in front of the lady.  for music is always a greater gift, but not well received by many. and a simple yet powerful flower could do better than words. 

 Send 🌹 for my muse to give your muse a rose for Valentine’s daySend me 🌹 reverse for your muse to give my muse a rose. // accepting.

                      at the very least, if nothing substantial came out of this meeting — and perhaps in the most VAIN of ways imaginable — the goddess could say she had been pleased with the respect shown to her by the man they called phantom. it was a long time now, since any living soul had spoken to her in such a manner … that it hardly mattered, in her eyes, if he did not recognize the significance of the name she had just spoken.  ( the mortals of her day would have fallen to her feet, begging for mercy … a memory that drew upon fond emotions, and a smile. )  ❝ I have heard of you, yes. who has not, in this house? ❞

eyes widened as Persephone finally made sense of his words —— A SYMPHONY ??  a symphony, to the hymn sang in worship of her and her mother? the thought was nothing short of astonishing, and a cry of delight slipped quickly past her lips.  

Zeus curse the opera, that was set to start soon. she would spend this evening with him !!

                      ❝ oh, I pray to the gods you are not lying to me! a symphony? I have only ever heard this song to the music of lyres and flutes — certainly not violins, pianos — where will you write this symphony, Erik? you must allow me to come with you. ❞

  THERE HAS ALWAYS been a lack of knowledge from the phantom’s part as the world is something he is not fond of. not close to. it is only a strange line of living creatures and perhaps, he is better not knowing anything outside of his own world. getting corrupted, mocked or hunted down, it was definitely something he did not want. something that would most certainly happen as soon as the eyes of the people in the town laid eyes on him. a mask was a matter of curiosity and curiosity led to a savage sort of behavior. the past times he has left his dearly beloved, awful and unspeakable things had happened. murder, more than many. although, that had inspired many songs. there is a nod towards her way in form of agreement. after all, this was his palace. 

his voice, his presence. it has impacted the walls and halls of the giant mansion of hell. for who has not learnt to respect the angel of death, death indeed comes their way. there is no mercy shown, no nothing. he created his own empire and as the emperor, he had to be worshiped. or simply respected. and as long as his music and his so very over told requests were met, there was no problem. it was only occasionally when his eyes long to meet beauty and craved an unfamiliar and intimate touch.   but that was never met as no one could bare to look the beast in the eye. there was only fear met once the curtain closed and the mask was yanked off . and now he was used to the celestial screaming from the nymphs that lived in his palace. 

                        his answer seems to please her, smile shining bright even in the dim candlelight as it dances against porcelain skin. they come from different worlds; hers is a BEACON, the sun —- full of light && joy. his is hidden in the SHADOWS, bathed only by the light of his candles && the gentle moon. but they have common ground. the flowers —— && the MUSIC.      

                                                          ❝ ————————-will you play for me tonight? ❞

Her eyes widened in horror and the mask she was holding in her hands dropped to the floor. Alessia was unable to move, even to breathe. Never before had she seen such monstrosity. Even in her darkest nightmares she’d never seen such a face. A demon, she thought, couldn’t look any more frightening. But worse than his face was the wrath in his eyes, the hate in his voice.                     ❝ I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t want to-❞

        “ dear master, a bible is only words written of gospel. it may do it justice, yes, but there is hardly anything better than hearing the word of god with your own ears. i could write cantos of praise for you and your work and your own beauty, but it would be a shameful piece. for nothing could ever truly compare.. „ fingers curled over his shoulder, dark brows quirking as a smile twisted pale pink lips.  “.. to the face and voice of god himself. „ fingers wound against his to hold his hand tight, gaze finally shifting to lock with his own. confidence – liberated.

     “ don’t be so silly, there is so much beauty here that even aphrodite would not be able to become angry. only stay in the solace of it all. „ he leads her onto the floor, the bottom of her dress billowing like a sea wave crashing on the beach. eva narrowly avoids dancing pairs, head tilting curiously to better see the side of his mask, sweeps of flaxen blonde tresses cascading down her back. admittedly, she was paying less attention to the music, now, and more towards the writer. if anything, the music were a backdrop to a play called life, and this was a beautiful scene she never dreamed of being part of.